Sex and the City meets the Dalai Lama. Buns and Marty use their lively escapades to ignite an authentic inquiry into themselves ... an emotionally-naked exposé baring all.
Their keen observations of life’s twists and turns will inspire you to use your obstacles as a path to your heart’s desire.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Mommies and Poppies

I’m still digesting the news I received
last night that my Mom has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. While she
is in relatively good shape mentally, and there is the possibility that she
will retain her current level of memory for 6 months to 3 years, it’s still a
shock. Oh, the things that have been coursing through my brain since last night
are many…

I’m thinking this could be cathartic for
me, and possibly healing for some of you to just journey with me for the next
few minutes as I try, as best as I can, to capture my stream of consciousness,
that is threatening to be a debris torrent.

We all thought Mom was forgetting things
because she was still in mourning for her life partner of 60 years.We thought she was depressed and that she
would move through that phase eventually. We all miss Dad. We are just all processing
his passing differently and we thought her way was through being stuck in her
sadness.

Dad loved, and I mean LOVED poppies.It was his favourite flower.Because of that, poppies made my top-ten list
as well.One year I remember collecting
poppy seeds in the wild and mailing them to him for a Christmas present. He
loved that gift.

November and poppies have always signaled
“Lest We Forget” to me.I can remember
as a young girl the smell in the air, that cold, fresh, almost snowy smell that
heralded the pinning of a tiny felt poppy on my lapel.Even before I knew what it meant, I knew it
was special and something that needed honouring.

I have always felt patriotic and a deep
gratitude for my country. I know my Mom
instilled that in me from a very early age. I cry when we march into an Olympic
venue with our red and white colours proudly worn. I cried when Justin Trudeau
was announced as our new Prime Minister because of the relief and joy I had,
realizing we just got our country back. (I also cried the day I got the rejection letter from Margaret Trudeau saying I didn't make the cut to be Justin's nanny!)

Now, in the wake of this latest news of my
Mom, (who ushered me into this world when she was but 19), poppies, November,
“Lest We Forget”, all have an even deeper meaning than before. I don’t want to
forget.And it saddens me that she may
not be able to hold onto the delicious memories of experiences that she
conjured up for us that helped to mold us into healthy souls whose values
strongly echo her own.

I love my Mom.(That one’s for you Susannah!)

Now, more than ever, I am committed to
living in the present and enjoying each moment fully.While I of course will contribute to the
decision making regarding her next steps, I don’t want to get embroiled in the
“it’s going to be so sad when she can’t remember us any more”… another one of
those phrases I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

I want to continue to spend as much time with her as I
can.Quality time. Where I’m helpful and
where we are both nourished by each other’s presence.

I’m feeling really sad as I write this and
at the same time am making friends with the reality of growing old… something
that I’ve considered an enemy for many years. I’m beginning to see a glimmer of
how being friends with all this can be so healing and helpful.(After all, I’m no spring chicken either!)

Mom. You are an amazing woman.I couldn’t have picked a better person to
help me navigate through my life. As you have always been there for me, I am
here for you too.

The next 6 months to 3 years are going to be
kickass.I’m coming over.

With love from your favourite daughter,

Buns.

P.S.I remember you used to cry when I would sing this song.I’m not including it because of that, but
because I get it now. See you soon.

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How it all began

Our sons were friends. Like brothers really. We mothers had never met but both our guys kept saying we should. Then Duncan passed away. It was through Marty's support of Buns' grieving her son that a deep friendship was forged.

Duncan inspired us. If his life, at 22, could get snuffed out like that, without any warning, then why wouldn't we live each day to the max ... grateful for every second, whether mundane or profound?

Really, we're not interested in writing just about the happy times. We are interested in also using the pain, the sorrow, the disappointments -- the realities of life -- to stretch and grow.

Inherent in everything that happens, at the heart of it lies love. Sometimes it doesn't look like love. We have to go through all the layers of ourselves authentically and feel them in order to reveal that essence.

But hey. It's not all serious. We have a blast. We go blindly into spontaneous adventures that some might consider reckless (Marty's word), or random (Buns' word), but regardless, whatever it is we are doing, we are awake and choosing to live out loud.

If you want to catch all the glorious details of the Buns and Marty escapades, you can start with our first post under Blog Archive (November 2010 -- Today has already been amazing -- and read the posts from bottom to top).

A BUNS & MARTY UPDATE!

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